


A Crooked Start

by jessa_anna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Summoning, Kinda but not really, M/M, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessa_anna/pseuds/jessa_anna
Summary: Everything began on a normal, if a little slow, Tuesday. Stiles had spent his morning volunteering at Deaton and Scott’s vet practice, petting kittens and puppies. Frankly, it was the best part of his week. When he came into work, he was immediately put on dispatch. As the Beacon County’s SLO officer, he had to be available for all supernatural related emergencies, which meant that he ran the dispatch or the front desk most of the time. This resulted in Stiles being even more jumpy and jittery than normal, since he had no way to dispel his energy.“I think my cat is trying to summon a demon.” The voice coming from the phone was soft and grumpy sounding, but there was a hint of fear there that Stiles recognized. Scott’s voice had held that edge for months after he was bitten.Stiles immediately sat up in chair. “Excuse me, sir?” he asked.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Idea came from an [Imgur post.](http://imgur.com/gallery/GAhIaaI)
> 
> Title came from Brandi Carlile's [ Raise Hell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w19Ho2Fjhz8). 
> 
> I'm thinking of writing more, since I have a bunch of pictures saved as prompts. Let me know if you think I should.
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd, so let me know if I have any horrible errors.

Stiles never, ever thought that he would call his job boring. In high school, Beacon Hills was insane, with rogue alphas running around biting people all willy-nilly, kanimas murdering people until they resolved their past issues, darachs, alpha packs, and even the discovery of a nemeton, which everyone was sure had been stopped when they cut down the damn tree. Surprise, surprise, it only took a small sacrifice of Stiles, his best friend Scott, and Scott’s girlfriend Allison to open it back up. Stiles himself had been possessed by a nogitsune. It was pretty much a shit show of supernatural proportions.

Perhaps naively, he had thought that his experiences would give him an edge as a Supernatural Liaison Officer. For the first few months he worked in San Francisco, it had. There had been a rare kanima running around, and since Stiles had experienced dealing with one before, he had taken point, and in a surprisingly quick amount of time (for dealing with the supernatural), he had gotten the kanima into counseling and fully evolved into a werewolf. 

Then he had been in for the real work of the San Francisco branch of the Supernatural Law Enforcement Agency: dealing with selkies, kelpies, sirens, mermaids, and every other kind of water-based supernatural you could think of. For a while, Stiles had a blast. He loved learning about their homes, habits, and whatnot. He loved using that knowledge to make sure they didn’t hurt too many nonsupernaturals or each other. And then, he made the mistake of forgetting to put in his wax earplugs before attempting to arrest a siren, and he nearly drowned. Stiles still remember what it felt like, the music haunting him, filling him, until it seemed like the only thing he wanted to do, needed to do, was to become one with it. He remembered feeling the water touch his legs and not caring; even as it was cresting over the top of his head, he ignored it. All that matter was the music. Then the music stopped and his partner pulled him out of the water with barely any time to spare. It took two months for all the venom from the music to leave his system. While on leave, Stiles decided that it was time he went home and took over the SLO position that had never really been filled in Beacon County.

He was starting to think that SLO might be a little too on the nose when it came to this job. Nothing ever seemed to happen. Of course, that was before the phone call. 

 

********

 

Derek hadn’t expected to be away from Beacon Hills as long as he had. At first, it had been a knee-jerk reaction to the fire, the desire to leave overtaking the desire to stay on his family’s home territory, land that they had held for hundreds of years. Then it had been because Derek, to both his and Laura’s surprise, managed to get into Harvard with a full ride. He had applied to colleges on the west coast too, but who can say no to Harvard? Only crazy people, that’s who. Then he realized that he needed to attend grad school to get anywhere with his major, and somehow that spiraled into attending Yale, which then spiraled into taking an internship and then a job with an very important architectural firm in New York. 

After a few years of working up the ladder, Derek came home one day and sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands. He was tired of all the crowds of people that filled New York, making him feel claustrophic just by existing. He was tired of never feeling completely at ease in his job, always aware that one of his coworkers were aiming for his place on the latest very important project. He was tired of always having to work on building plans that he didn’t care about, had no connection to. In short, he was tired of this life he had built. 

He called Laura to discuss possibly moving back to Beacon Hills. She convinced him to wait a month to see if it was just a passing fancy or something he truly wanted. When he was still tired at the end of thirty days, Derek put in his resignation at work and started making plans.

 

********

 

Everything began on a normal, if a little slow, Tuesday. Stiles had spent his morning volunteering at Deaton and Scott’s vet practice, petting kittens and puppies. Frankly, it was the best part of his week. When he came into work, he was immediately put on dispatch. As the Beacon County’s SLO officer, he had to be available for all supernatural related emergencies, which meant that he ran the dispatch or the front desk most of the time. This resulted in Stiles being even more jumpy and jittery than normal, since he had no way to dispel his energy. 

“I think my cat is trying to summon a demon.” The voice coming from the phone was soft and grumpy sounding, but there was a hint of fear there that Stiles recognized. Scott’s voice had held that edge for months after he was bitten.

Stiles immediately sat up in chair. “Excuse me, sir?” he asked.

The person on the phone sighed. “I know how this sounds I just…I keep walking into the kitchen only to find my cat staring into the stove. I thought it was weird at first, but I just walked in there, and there were red eyes glowing out of the stove. My cat ran off right away, but it took a while for the eyes to fade. I starting to get worried.”

Holy shit, this was a real phone call.

“I guess it could be summoning a demon, but there’s no way to know for sure until someone checks it out,” Stiles said.

“Okay,” said the caller, “Can someone come check it out?”

“Yes, we will send someone out. What’s your name and address?”

“Derek Hale, and I live at the Hale House in the Preserve.”

Stiles looked up from his notebook where he was jotting down notes. “I thought the county condemned that,” he said. 

“They did. I recently decided to move home, and I bought it from the county. I’m in the process of rebuilding it. Right now, it isn’t much, but it’s going to be home,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled. As a child, he had loved that house. It had been homey, and after his mother died and his dad had buried himself in work and whiskey, he had spent the hour or so before falling asleep every night imagining the family that lived there. Back then, the Hale family hadn’t been well known, although everybody knew who they were. They were a remarkably gorgeous family that mostly kept to themselves but were always willing to bring a casserole to a grieving family or search for children lost in the woods of the Preserve. Their notoriety came later, when the house, along with everyone except three people, burned to the ground. He couldn’t help but be happy that it was going to be rebuilt again. It deserved to have people in it.

“Okay,” he said, “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” said Derek. He hung up.

Stiles stood up from his chair and stretched. Internally, he was jumping up and down in excitement that he finally had a call. Externally, he coolly grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and walked to the Sheriff’s office to update him.

Stiles hadn’t been to the Hale House in years, but he still remembered the way with minimal false starts. It wasn’t as impressive as it had been all those years before, with only the basic frame having been built, but he could see in its bones that it would be nice. Just a few more weeks or so and it would look like a home. 

He drove to where the driveway ended in front of the house and parked next to a nice black Camaro. Stiles wasn’t usually a car guy (his old blue Jeep attested to that), but it wasn’t hard to see that this was a nice vehicle. Whoever owned it certainly took care of it, as it was immaculate and frankly, quite sexy. Stiles would have liked to take his time looking over the car, maybe popping the hood to pretend he knew what was inside or even taking it for a drive, but he was here for a reason. And that reason was standing in the frame of what would one day be the front door. 

 

*********

 

Derek hadn’t expected much when he called the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. After all, who would take the threat of a cat summoning a demon seriously? But the person on the phone had been calm and had treated it seriously, something Derek was eternally grateful for. The deputy currently making his way over to where Derek stood, his shirt the ugly yellow-green color of a SLO officer, had an equally serious expression. 

“Mr. Hale?” the deputy asked. Derek nodded yes, and the deputy continued, “I’m Deputy Stilinski, and I’m here to investigate a possible demon summoning.”

“Right this way, Officer,” Derek said, turning around and leading the deputy through the framework of his soon to be home. He led the deputy through the house to the ugly red cabin behind it. Somehow, it had survived the fire in relatively good condition. Derek had spent his first few weeks back in Beacon Hills renovating it so that he could live there while working on the house. One of the few original pieces he had kept was the old wood stove.

“God dammit,” he swore when he walked into the kitchen. Fluffy was staring into the flames again, and a pair of green eyes peered out from a black blob in their midst. His cat hadn’t moved from her spot directly in front of the stove, and she stared intently at the eyes.

“Okay,” said the SLO officer, “The good news is that I am here to officially see this. The bad part is that this is officially weird.”

 

********

 

There were some things that Stiles was trained to never, ever say in front of a person reporting a suspicious supernatural incident. He knew not to blame them or make them feel like they were in some way responsible. He knew how to word his questions so that they kept calm. He knew better than to say “This is officially weird,” but of course, that’s what came out of his mouth when he saw the cat. The cat that belonged to an insanely hot dude that Stiles would not be opposed to banging and/or dating. Hopefully both, if he had to choose.

“Stay back here,” he said, after an awkward pause. “I’m going to see if I can figure out what’s happening.”

He crept closer to the cat, still staring into the flames. The dark blur inside the stove was slowly becoming clearer. He forced himself to not pay attention to that, his ADHD making that far easier than it had a right to be. He concentrated instead on the cat, specifically its aura, and what exactly was drawing that dark figure through. It didn’t take him long to realize that the cat wasn’t just staring at the flames. It was staring at something else, something that normally didn’t belong in a fire, especially not if it wanted to live. But creatures drawn to the supernatural had a tendency to live where they shouldn’t, despite what logic and science said they should.

“I’ll be right back.” He stood up and jogged up the stairs and through the skeleton of the house to come. He popped the trunk of his car as soon as he knew he was in range and pulled his kit out of it. Then he ran back to where Derek was gazing at the cat. Stiles wanted to reassure him then, or at the very least explain the situation, but there was no time. He had to act fast before the dark image gathered any more power. 

He opened his bag, filled with all sorts of magic paraphernalia, and dug around in it until he brought up a simple glass jar.

“Can you open the stove?” Stiles asked as he unscrewed the lid.

When Derek didn’t reply, Stiles looked over at him. He was staring at the glowing eyes intently, as if they had a hold over him.

He stood up and walked over to him. Derek’s eyes didn’t move. Stiles even waved his hand in front of his face, but there was no response. 

Stiles hated to do this, knew from personal experience that it would be too easy to get it wrong, but he had no other choice. He took a deep breath and gathered power to him.

 

********

 

“Derek!” a voice broke into his mind and caused him to jump back a bit.

He shook his head to clear out the cobwebs or whatever it was that seemed to muffle his thoughts. His attention wanted to waver back to the dark blob, but he forced himself to focus on Deputy Stilinski, who looked more than a little concerned.

“Sorry,” he growled, trying to ignore the blush he felt creeping up his cheeks. “What did you say?”

“Can you open the stove door for me?”

Derek nodded and then strode over to the stove. 

“Okay, now don’t look directly at the fire,” Stiles said as he squatted down in the front.

Derek swung the door open, dutifully keeping his eyes away. He did hear a buzzing before the deputy slammed the lid down on the jar.

“Gotcha!” Stiles cried. 

“Can I shut the door now?” Derek asked.

“Go right ahead,” Stiles said, “and you can look now.”

Derek found himself looking that the lithe deputy only to see him with a moth or a butterfly in the jar.

“What is that?” he asked.

Deputy Stilinski looked up with a grimace. “Something far more powerful than a butterfly,” he said. “It’s a Death’s Head Hawkmoth, which you can tell by the skull-looking markings on its thorax. They are known for their connections to evil spirits and as harbingers of death, war, and famine. My guess is that a demon was using it and the energy from your cat to draw itself back into the world.”

Now that the markings were pointed out, it was all Derek could do to not freak out at the unusual marks. He wanted take the jar in his hands and squash it, glass and all. 

Deputy Stilinski smiled at him. “I know it’s tempting to just squish the hell out of this, but that’s unnecessary. The moth is still a moth. If I don’t poke holes into the jar, it will die of asphyxiation. But what I’m going to do is take it over to Dr. Deaton’s and see if he has a way of severing the connection.”

Derek looked sharply over to him at that. Most SLO officers were known for their quickness to neutralize rogue supernaturals, not attempt to save them. 

The deputy smiled. “My friend Scott was bit by a rogue alpha when we were teenagers. If he found out that I killed a defenseless creature who was being used by someone else, he would kill me. Even if it is just a moth.”

“Scott?” Derek said, “Do you mean Scott McCall, the true alpha?” Laura had told him about the new blood in Beacon Hills before he had moved back, so that Derek knew not to worry about the scent of another alpha in their territory.

“Yep, that’s him.”

“Laura and I are having dinner with his pack this weekend,” Derek said.

“Well, then I guess I’ll see you then,” Stilinski said.

“You’re in his pack?” Derek asked.

“Yep, pretty sure I’m the closest thing Scott has to an actual emissary since you moved back and Laura technically has a pack now.”

“Can’t Deaton work with two packs?” 

Deputy Stilinski smiled. “He said that he was getting to old to have three jobs and that I had enough training to take over for Scott. I’m hoping that he was right.”

Derek felt a small smile cross his face. If he wasn’t mistaken, the deputy was feeling more than a little unsure of his abilities.

“I’m sure Deaton wouldn’t have stepped down if he didn’t think you could handle it. And it’s not like he isn’t around to consult or Laura and I aren’t around to help if something happens that’s too much for your pack,” he said.

“True that,” Stilinski said.

Derek had never liked those words, but the day had been stressful before the damn thing with his cat, and then he had to deal with a hot guy who might be a future ally and it was too much. He started to laugh.

The deputy looked at him incredulously for a moment before smiling himself.

“You have a nice laugh,” he said.

Derek found himself blushing as his laughter died down. 

“You have a nice smile,” he quietly replied.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other. Then the jar started to slip from Stilinski’s hand. Derek quickly reached out and grabbed it in midair. 

“I better get this to Deaton before I break it,” Stiles said.

“Okay,” said Derek.

As the deputy walked out the door, Derek found that he couldn’t help himself.

“See you on Saturday,” he called.

Deputy Stilinski looked back and smiled. 

“See you on Saturday.”


End file.
